


Between the Bars Indeed

by Hannigrammatic



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Creepy Hannibal, Dry Sex, Forced Eye Contact, M/M, Manipulation, Masochist!Will Graham, Pain, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Rude as fuck Hannibal, Someone Help Will Graham, Spanking, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:30:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5052139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannigrammatic/pseuds/Hannigrammatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They kept the Chesapeake Ripper behind bars at first. It wasn’t until a particular event that they introduced the stoic man to his plexiglass cage in Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Politician

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I feel that it's pertinent to state that I do not condone any of the actions within this story. I know it's dark and awful, and I know I'm writing it, but that doesn't mean I agree with anything within or believe that it should happen to anyone. Sometimes things just need out, however, and so I'm writing this. ♥ (03/01/2016)
> 
> Hannibal is a dick. I can't believe I wrote this. Be aware of the tags, please.
> 
> As always, I don't have a beta reader, so all mistakes are mine~

They kept the Chesapeake Ripper behind bars at first. It wasn’t until a particular event that they introduced the stoic man to his plexiglass cage in Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. 

Since his incarceration, Hannibal Lecter had behaved amicably, even well. He was polite to the orderlies, almost to a fault. There had been no major issues of the cannibalistic nature, and since his sudden surrender the year previously, it was almost possible to imagine that there never would be. Perhaps there wouldn’t have been any had there not been a mix up in the staff; if the new orderly, one Will Graham, thirty-five, did not get instructed to return the renowned serial killer to his cell that dreary autumn afternoon before the end of his shift.

Will had been working at the BSHCI for a month at this point, and he knew his way around, was confident in his abilities, and had no problems with any of the prisoners. No personal vendettas, no prior commitments, nothing drawing him to or away from performing his job to his best ability. He was quiet, respectful, listened to his superiors, and took on any menial task given him without complaint. He had basic knowledge on all of the prisoners in his wing, and more than that, and he predicted nothing major would happen that afternoon. 

He knew better than to dismiss the ever-present fact that _anything_ could happen while on shift, but he wasn’t on edge like he had been for the first few weeks at his relatively new job. After his lunch break that day (half a sandwich shoved in his mouth and nasty job-coffee to wash it down), Will hung his jacket up in the staff locker room and proceeded to cut through the wing that housed the interrogation/interview offices as he always did. He smoothed his crisp white uniform down, ran a cursory hand through his hair -he needed to get it cut pretty badly-, and kept his head down as he made his way to his wing.

“There you are,” a voice interrupted his thoughts, and Will looked up quickly to the superior on shift that day. “Lecter is shackled and ready to be returned to his cell. Don’t forget to sign the return sheet this time, for god’s sake.”

“I’m sorry?” Will tried to say, but it was pointless.

The portly man shuffled the Chesapeake Ripper into the hall immediately, none too gently it could be observed. Will had never seen the serial killer in person before. Sure he had seen his face plastered across news stations, reports, awful blogs online, etcetera. It didn’t prepare him for how contradictory the man was in person. Hannibal Lecter was both large and small. Physically, he filled out his prisoner clothes, but he also appeared to be small and harmless. His greying brown-blond hair was cropped close to his head, and his face was all angles, sharp cheekbones, dark eyes, and a full, almost pouting set of lips pressed into a neutral line. Altogether he was obviously of a foreign background, tanned and exotic-looking. Will couldn’t help his cursory once-over, one eyebrow raised as he found himself rather unimpressed by the fact that the man before him could have ever been capable of murder.

 _He looks like politician_ , Will thought blankly.

“Alright, submit your report afterwards and you are free to go home,” his superior said in a clipped tone before turning Hannibal Lecter bodily to relinquish into Will’s charge.

Will Graham had a moment to meet the serial killer’s expressionless gaze with his own disbelieving one, despite endeavoring to avoid eye-contact generally. It wasn’t an altogether unpleasant experience, but as Will grasped the chain secured around Hannibal Lecter’s waist, he suddenly had a moment of disquiet. The first few moments of movement were silent, the bigger man’s hands cuffed in front of him and attached to the chain that wrapped around him. His ankles were cuffed as well, but not constricting movement enough to prevent the man from walking properly.

His superior gone, Will applied a small amount of pressure to keep the prisoner walking as he mapped out the building in his mind. He knew where the Ripper’s cell was, thankfully. He didn’t entirely know how it would reflect on him once it was figured out he wasn’t the orderly staffed to this task, but he also didn’t want to rock the boat. He took the change of events in stride and lead one of the country’s most renowned murderers back to his cell with hardly a blink.

“You are not Mr. Brown,” an accented voice broke through Will’s determined forward facing intent.

“No, I am not,” Will answered simply. He didn’t intend to answer at all, but found himself strangely off his guard at the warm, dulcet tone of Hannibal Lecter.

“An unfortunate circumstance. I did not get to see your ID. May I inquire as to your name?” the question was brooked neutrally.

“You can inquire. It doesn’t matter, however,” Will said simply. “We’re not here for conversation.”

 _Inmate_ , Will was tempted to address him as. But it didn’t seem tasteful. And for some reason, Will did not want to be distasteful to this man. He’d heard rumors about his charge, that the cannibalistic serial killer was a real charmer according to the staff. Some of the older workers almost seemed fond of him even, in a morbid way. Will refrained from shuddering as he realized quite suddenly that he was feeling relaxed just now. Walking an incredibly dangerous man to his cell should not have felt like a stroll in a park somewhere.

“Be that as it may, conversation may always be relevant. Furthermore, it is rather polite, and it invites a comfortable atmosphere between two strangers such as ourselves.”

“In this case it is unneeded, as we are further removed from strangers, and do not require a comfortable atmosphere. I’m just an orderly returning you to your cell, Mister Lecter.”

“Please, call me Hannibal.”

Will furrowed his brow as they turned a corner. Ahead the entrance to the designated wing came into sight. He couldn’t wrap his head around the discussion taking place. He knew he should remain silent and not offer ammo or allow himself to come to any disadvantage here. He looked up at Hannibal Lecter’s profile perfunctorily and found the bigger man looking forward with a small smirk on his lips. His eyes crinkled slightly at the corners as if he was amused. Will Graham just barely refrained from sniffing indignantly. He could immediately understand why the other staff members could be said to enjoy (if that word could be used in reference to a psychopath) the man’s presence, but he could also simultaneously feel the instinctive horror that underlined the mundane interactions going on at this moment.

Will remained pointedly silent as they made it to the wing’s entrance. He grasped the chain slightly tighter as he came around Hannibal’s side to swipe his card, belatedly wondering if it would even work, but with a beep the door buzzed and slid open, allowing them to pass through unhindered. They made it to Hannibal’s cell in silence that was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. It was merely clinical, and Will found the door open in preparation for the murderer’s return.

“I’m going to undo the chain now,” he announced as he retrieved the key from his pocket that the superior had palmed into his hand before his hasty retreat earlier.

Chain undone and removed but ankles and wrists still cuffed, Will nudged the man into the cell and secured it behind him, and Hannibal dutifully turned around to allow the orderly to uncuff one wrist and then the other. Kneeling, Will reached through the bars to do the same to the bigger man’s ankles with a soft grunt. When he regained his feet, Will Graham realized his mistake far too late. _Ankles FIRST_ , a voice echoed somewhere in his head. 

It took less than a second for Hannibal Lecter to grasp the back of Will’s head, large hands gripping dark curls painfully tight to draw Will against the bars hard. Meeting those dark eyes, Will’s throat went dry and his stomach sunk violently as his brain caught up with his fuck-up. But it was too late, just as the instinct to run, to be aware of danger, to be careful, had been too late to build up his guard. Suddenly Will Graham had a feeling he knew what the Ripper’s victims felt before their lives were snuffed out.

An attempt to grab the taser at his belt was thwarted by a strong arm snaking around him, trapping his left arm against his own chest and the bars in front of him. The hand still fisted in his hair jerked once before Will found his mouth pressed against Hannibal’s, still opened stupidly in his shock and disgustingly welcoming the murderer’s commanding tongue to shove its way down his throat. Grunting, time caught up with Will and he growled, tried to exert his own strength to break the hold on him, but Hannibal was almost inhumanly strong. He managed not an inch of ground, and he winced as he felt bile build in the back of his throat as that large, fat tongue plundered his mouth.

Fist pulling even harder, Hannibal brought the orderly as close as possible and tongue-fucked his mouth with a growl of his own. The absolutely livid blue light of Will’s eyes was only fuel on the sudden combustion, and maddeningly, Hannibal’s visage remained calm, almost pleasant despite his actions. Will could do nothing but breath heavily through his nose. He knew he should bite into the domineering tongue running along his palate now almost tenderly, knew he should use his free hand to attempt to strike. In the distant he heard the buzzing sound of an alarm, knew he would be fine if he just retained any semblance of calm. But as if he could breathe the man’s thoughts into himself through the wet, tight conquering of the orderly’s mouth, Hannibal Lecter took another move on the chessboard of their situation.

Will had no thoughts beyond terror as he felt his shirt rucked up, drawn out of his pants where they had been tucked. Time came to a standstill long enough for Will to cry out in disbelief, quaking suddenly. _He wont_ , Will managed to think, before the murderer restraining him against the cell bars most certainly did. What he did was push his hand into the back of Will’s pants unceremoniously to press his thick middle finger between the smaller man’s buttocks. And with no preamble or care for the sound of the alarm that shrieked in the air, Hannibal pushed his dry digit into the tight heat of Will Graham’s asshole up to the second knuckle and swallowed the terrified scream of pain the orderly let out at the intrusion. At the same time he licked into the shaking man’s mouth almost affectionately before sinking his sharp teeth into Will’s lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

In the distance, two more orderlies got the door open and were rushing to their coworker’s aid. What felt like an eternity was over in seconds as Will was pulled away from lips and teeth and tongue. But still Hannibal managed to press his index finger in alongside his middle insistently into his tight, unwelcoming hole up to the first knuckle, to press his other two teasingly against the terrified man’s perineum. Still, the bigger man managed to bring his lips to Will’s ear reverently. And when his prey was torn from his grasp, the Chesapeake Ripper merely smiled perkily and stepped into the center of his cell to await his punishment patiently.

Will Graham struck the wall and gasped for breath, body a symphony of emotion and sensation he couldn’t even begin to put into order. His lip bled profusely and his lower body stung sharply. He closed his eyes from the sight of Hannibal standing there like a cat that got the cream, he closed his mind to the words still shivering along his ear, and he let himself be lead out of the wing and into the office of another superior to attempt to make sense of what had just happened. Questioned as he sat there in pain, as if he had done a horrible deed and not just been physically harassed by the prisoner he had been left with for a simple task. Everything became a blur until finally he was released on paid leave for the next two weeks.

Curled up at home on the couch with the television blaring in front of him, he closed his eyes tightly. 

_That tongue lapped up the blood after sharp canines had pierced his bottom lip, drew the crimson fluid into Will’s mouth languidly. The kiss was tender towards the end, not quite apologetic, more along the lines of victorious. The searing pain accompanying the two fingers pressed deep inside a place Will had never even entertained being of interest to anyone much less Hannibal Lecter the Chesapeake Ripper. The strain of his hair being pulled nearly from his skull was not a pain that concerned him any longer. It was a backdrop to the other sensations attempting to break him as he felt the bars uncomfortably against his chest that was too tight with breath that needed out._

_Distantly he heard the doors clatter open and footsteps rushing towards him. The kiss -if it could be called that- ended, and the hand in his hair let up to press against the back of his neck softly. Blood-stained teeth nipped at his earlobe for a split second before words caressed into his brain._

_“When I get out of here, I will find you.”_

Will pressed his hands against his ears with a soft keen.

-*.*.*.*-

The Chesapeake Ripper’s new plexiglass cage had a cot and not much else. Three holes in the glass opened up the room for air to circulate and for his keepers to speak through. Will did not see Hannibal’s new cell, in fact the transferred out of the job three months later to turn his attention to teaching again instead. He knew he should never have left the comfortable job that had him behind a desk.

One year later breaking news told the story of the Chesapeake Ripper’s escape from Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Four months later there was a knock on Will’s door in Wolf Trap, Virginia, the new home Will had made for himself with his pack of strays, blessedly removed from civilization and with it, the news anchors frantically warning the public of the armed and dangerous villain free on the streets after a mix up during transportation.

Will Graham opened his front door amidst excited barks and his smile of greeting died on his face.

Hannibal Lecter’s smirk was no longer small. Teeth glinting, dark eyes veritably sparkling, he took a single step forward.


	2. Feeding Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hello, Will,” The Chesapeake Ripper said warmly.
> 
> Will had perhaps half a second to respond in any manner before a large hand closed around his throat and pulled him out of his house.
> 
> NOTE: Hannibal is not nice to Will at all. You have been warned!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ended up being longer than I thought it would. Again, be aware of the tags! I'm sorry, Will!
> 
> All mistakes are mine.

“Hello, Will,” The Chesapeake Ripper said warmly.

Will had perhaps half a second to respond in any manner before a large hand closed around his throat and pulled him out of his house. The dogs barked loudly, scrabbling at the door that slammed shut on them, but there was nothing any of them could do as their master was shoved up against the door after it banged shut. Will’s breath left him in huff as his head and shoulders cracked against the hard surface, and in his panic, he reflexively stuck out with one hand to strike at his assailant’s face.

Sharp teeth promptly closed around his hand and Will screamed in pain as blood ran in languid rivulets over and down his wrist, eyes snapping to the sharp teeth sunk into his flesh. Hannibal was still grinning, and Will made the mistake of looking into his dark eyes at that moment and felt his heart stutter in terror. 

_It hurt so much, those thick fingers shoved so deep inside. The taste of blood and the sharp sting of his broken lip mattered very little against that utterly violating pain. The big man holding him captive against the bars huffed happily when he finally drew away from shoving his tongue down the orderly’s throat, and the second Will’s blue eyes lit briefly on those monstrous crimson ones, he jerked his arm and pulled the smaller man even closer. His fingers sunk deeper and grazed Will’s prostate purposely, and the mingled pain and forced jolt of pleasure had the dark-haired man biting out a strained whine._

“No, no, please,” Will stuttered finally, tugged helplessly at his hand. “Oh god, please let me go.”

He didn’t care that his voice bordered on desperate. He looked away and let his head fall back against the door, let his body go limp and unthreatening as Hannibal boxed him in against his own fucking house. His hand was released and Will drew it to his chest, glancing briefly down at the teeth marks gouged into it, smelling the coppery blood. The hand around his throat, which had retained a slight grip the entire time, tightened harshly. Panic clutched at Will again and he struggled anew as his airway was cut off.

“You were not very difficult to find,” Hannibal was saying. “One would expect I had scared you enough to leave the country, the way you quivered in my arms at the hospital.”

Unable to respond, choking audibly, Will Graham bucked uselessly against the grip around him, instinctively, his body going into shock at the sudden lack of oxygen intake. He’d closed his eyes at some point, and as Hannibal spoke he felt his vision begin to darken, hoping in a small way that the man would just kill him and be done with it. He knew better, though. Before he could lose consciousness, the Chesapeake Ripper let go of his throat, albeit reluctantly. It wouldn’t do to kill such hard-earned prey too quickly, after all.

Will coughed as he drew in too much breath, choking again ironically. He’d stopped struggling, but his hands clutched at the neat suit of the man trapping him there. _’What do I do what do I do’_ was the endless mantra dancing around his brain as he tried to make himself smaller, wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. As he finally managed to breathe steadily he opened his blue eyes again after realizing that Hannibal had gone entirely still and silent. He dared to meet those eyes again, mouth open in horror.

_The tongue that had choked him seconds before licked a stripe up his cheek before lips brushed his ear: “When I get out of here, I will find you. When I get out of here, I will find you. When I get out of here, I will find you.”_

_It was endless._

There was nothing behind Hannibal Lecter’s eyes. He was blank. Perhaps indeed inhuman. He might as well be, to Will Graham. His twice attacker seemed to have no expression beyond cruel grins and subtle pleasure. His exotic features were schooled now in a non-expression, lips pressed into a straight line and brow neutral. He was still as a statue, and Will blinked at him. Felt absently the hand clasping his hair now instead of his throat. Hannibal seemed to not even be breathing, so unmoving was he in that moment as he stared into his captive’s face as if he could see into his soul.

Nostrils flaring, Will had the awful feeling that he could. That he could see into every nook and cranny of his psyche, could read everything that made Will who he was. _’Can he see me remembering can he smell my fear like the animal he is?’_ Hannibal’s nostrils flared then as well as he inhaled deeply and finally blinked, finally moved, pressed closer and brought his lips near Will’s own quivering ones. The smaller man felt something inside him snap and he kicked out as hard as he could before he could convince himself not to, and Will felt his knee connect with the soft flesh of the Chesapeake Ripper’s groin.

Time slammed back into Will as the man grunted. He hadn’t expected the hit at all, and Will felt his chest swell with pride as he slapped the arms away from either side of him and shoved at the bigger man’s chest to unbalance him. Panting, Will then sidestepped Hannibal’s reach and took off down the porch to the left, narrowly avoiding the chairs there, and vaulted down the steps. It was chilly out, an early spring morning that had his feet curling in slight shock, bare skin meeting damp and cold grass as he sprinted as quick as he could down the long driveway.

He didn’t have his keys, had only the home-comfy jeans and the old blue flannel shirt on over his sweat-stained undershirt. The coolish air felt nice on his face as he picked up speed, cursing himself at the same time for living so far removed. He passed his own beaten up volvo and the nondescript black car parked behind it, and made it about halfway to the road before the wind was knocked out of his sails, hard. Will hit the dirt and grass with enough force on his shoulder and hip that he felt his eyes water with unshed tears.

 _‘I was free’_ , he thought. And he had been for a few moments as Hannibal growled and got his bearings, hand softly rubbing at his stinging crotch. Unbeknownst to Will, the serial killer had been on his heels the entire time, having taken only three seconds at most to get to his feet and tear after the smaller man. What was desperate hope for Will had been invigorating and satisfying pleasure for Hannibal as he chased his prey and finally tackled him to the ground with a heaving roar.

-*.*.*.*-

Will Graham came to with a soft groan and found his face against the ground still. Grass tickled his lips and cheek, and he huffed out in confusion as he felt the pain of exertion and finally subduction shuddering through his body. He was on his belly in the dirt and it didn’t take him long to become aware of the softly panting man behind him, of the hands on either side of his head gripping the grass angrily, sleeves stained slightly. Breath lit along his neck and ear and Hannibal let out a snarl as he pressed the insolent Will Graham into the ground triumphantly.

“That,” Hannibal murmured. “Was incredibly rude, dear Will.”

Will felt himself laugh once in terrified amusement. Such an inane comment after the brief chase. Deceptively calm words from the man he’d fought dirty against what seemed an eternity ago but was instead only moments earlier. Will tried to relive the pleasure of catching Hannibal off guard, but it was eaten up by the fear that bled into his body once again. He was trapped against the ground bodily by someone bigger and stronger, and he cursed himself endlessly for letting time pass under the impression that the Chesapeake Ripper would never escape the BSHCI. Of course he would. Someone like that didn’t stay caught forever, but more importantly, those words - “When I get out of here, I will find you.”- had been uttered with such surety Will felt absolutely foolish now.

Desperation filled the slighter man and he struggled again. Pulled at the grass and attempted to slither away, anything to bring distance between him and the predator at his back. Will had the very bright image of sharp teeth sinking into his jugular and ripping his throat out right there under the sun. Time became sluggish as he prayed and prayed for this all to be a nightmare. That the strong hands that promptly grabbed his shoulders and shoved him even harder into the grass were not real. That the elbow that then pressed between his shoulderblades and incapacitated him were but a passing fright. Distantly Will heard his dogs still barking and whining helplessly back at the house, and it was that that convinced him that he wasn’t dreaming, and he slammed back into the present with a loud cry as his panic receded just enough for him to be aware of the hand tugging at his belt insistently.

“Oh god, please don’t,” he heard himself beg. “Please, I’m sorry. You scared me. I panicked, please don’t do this.”

“What is ‘this’ that you are referring to, then?” Hannibal questioned in an impish tone as he got the belt free finally and sat up.

Hannibal straddled Will, holding him in place with strong thighs now as he snatched up the shaking arms of the smaller man to bind them with the belt behind his back. There was a brief moment when the bigger man felt the beginnings of a renewing struggle, but he quelled that quickly with a swift slap to the side of Will’s face. The cry of shocked pain made Hannibal grin widely.

“I don’t- I just- please let me go, oh god,” Will was beyond caring that he sounded like a child terrified of invisible monsters; he flexed his hands and tried to ignore the pain of the bite on one, tried to ignore how entirely useless the action was. “Please don’t do tie me up, pl-”

“Shut your mouth,” Hannibal growled and Will complied immediately and shook like a leaf in a windstorm. “Good. Now answer me. What do you think I intend to do to you, Mr. Graham?”

Will was silent for a long time as he fought to get his shivering under control. His bound arms put strain on his shoulders, and as a result the old stab wound, and it sung unpleasantly along with how tight the belt had been tied. He only now became aware of his shirts having ridden up during his attempts to get away, and the grass was soft and scratchy against his stomach. Will breathed in and breathed out shudderingly.

“Answer. Me,” Hannibal growled, and his large hand fisted in dark curls and pushed none too gently against Will’s head. “You don’t want to make me ask again.”

“Please don’t kill me,” Will finally cried out around a mouthful of dirt; he coughed as he inhaled some and began to shake again. 

“Kill you?” the man behind him echoed. “Will. If I were going to kill you, you’d already be dead. Likely as you slept. You do look so peaceful curled up in your blankets, I must add.”

“Wha- you _watched_ me? H-how long?”

“Three days,” Hannibal laughed loudly at the indignant tone in Will’s questions. How delightfully thick-skulled this small man was. “Three days and nights. On the last I stood at the window by your bed.”

“Oh my god. You fucking sick bastard,” Will jerked against his binds again and attempted to buck the Ripper from him, filled with a rage that for a small amount of time replaced all of his fear and panic.

He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that for three days he had meandered on unknowingly, going through his days with as much contentment as a neurotic, anxiety driven man could. He thought about the mornings he sat on the porch in his boxers and t-shirt, about the times he took his pack out for a run. Sitting at his desk with a book, laying in bed and jerking off before sleep. For three days he had been monitored without his consent and that pissed Will off enough to become irrational.

“You’re a disgusting piece of shit,” Will growled, and he had not stopped bucking and moving as much as he could.

Hannibal didn’t answer with words. There wasn’t even a growl as he merely grabbed a handful of soft dark curls and lifted Will’s head as he leaned forward to snuffle against a throat damp with sweat. He felt Will’s breath hitch and smiled before licking a long and wet stripe up the scruffy cheek once again before bringing his lips to an ear that was reddening with the straining, awkward position he’d twisted the smaller man into. Hannibal could feel the exact moment Will’s mind catapulted back to the day at the hospital and he smiled knowingly even though it couldn’t be seen.

“I’m going to fuck you right here in the dirt,” Hannibal deadpanned. “You’re going to scream and no one will hear you, Will. You’re going to lose your voice, and you’re going to love it.”

“Wha-why? Ffffu-, please don’t,” Will’s pleas were the similar to the finest of music.

“For someone so intelligent, Will, you’re acting incredibly dense this very moment. You question this like you’re surprised. Do you not remember that day my fingers opened you up?”

Will shuddered violently and felt sweat drip off his brow. How could he not remember. He never stopped remembering, every day and night. His waking and sleeping world was comprised of the memories of that day and new ones that wove with it to create a man that was paranoid but apparently not enough. He sobbed into the dirt and stopped moving as Hannibal began to laugh in amusement. He could feel the bigger man’s pleasure, could feel the black pits of uncaring that were behind it. Could feel the single-minded intent as one of those monstrous hands gripped the waist of his jeans and tugged them down roughly.

“Ah. My dear Will. You’re already prepared for me.”

“Fuck you, you monster,” Will spat out.

The air was cold against his bare ass. Embarrassingly, Will had neglected to wear boxers that morning, comfortable the less he was wearing and just lounging around his home with his dogs. The irony of that now was like a slap across the face that hurt more than the actual one Hannibal bestowed upon one of his asscheeks quite suddenly. It jolted Will out of his circling thoughts and he cried out in pain before he could stop himself.

“Oh dear. That was quite rude, Mr Graham. Perhaps you ought to think about what you are saying before you open your mouth again,” Hannibal said around a smile Will could hear in that accented voice, and he knew the words were a threat.

It was hard to care one way or another, though, as the situation was already dire. And Will was a stubborn man, perhaps stupidly so, backed into the proverbial corner as he was. A cornered animal never went down without a fight. But most cornered animals also weren’t face-first in the ground with their arms tied behind their back securely. And they did not have Hannibal Lecter holding them down with more strength than a human should have, pressing his groin now against Will’s bared flesh. The fabric of his expensive suit pants was soft, but the line of his cock within was hard and as insistent as its owner.

“Monster,” Will said again. “You’re a monster. You’re going to rape me in front of my own house and you’re happy about it. You’re a fucking monster.”

Will felt any calm in him snap just then and found himself repeating the same phrase again and again, no longer even towards the powerful man at his back. _You’re a monster_. It ran through his skull like a marquee in a breaking news story on the television. He found his body breaking out in new sweat and shivers simultaneously as panic consumed him finally, belatedly. He was hardly aware of anything but his own mind breaking and his breath hitching and then panting as he hyperventilated, but it wasn’t long at all before he was brought back to attention as his arms were released from the tight confines of the belt and he was flipped over onto his back without preamble.

It was worse this way. His head rested softly against the grass, and his shoulder wasn’t screaming, but he could see Hannibal now, crouched between his thighs as he maneuvered Will’s arms above his head to clasp once again with his own belt. The bigger man’s hair was hanging slightly in his eyes and his teeth were visible through an open grin as his depthless eyes snapped to red-rimmed sky blue ones squinting up at him. Hannibal’s own cheeks were red as well, but it was with delight as he pressed forward again to inhale the scent of Will’s terror.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered into Will’s ear; it coincided with the words ‘you’re a monster’ that still shaped his shaking lips. “You’re so completely terrified of me. Of what I am going to do to you. And yet still you love it, my dear dear Will.”

Will shook his head helplessly. The breath against his throat sighed over his sweating skin and it caused a shiver to jump through his body, the hard line of Hannibal’s cock once against against his vulnerable lower body. And with a shock, Will realized his jeans were hanging off of his right shin, the Ripper having removed them almost at some point in moving his position. His legs were on either side of Hannibal’s hips and one strong hand was hitched under his left knee while the other held his bound hands above his head. Defeated again, Will collapsed fully beneath his captor with a short keening whine.

“Please,” he cried out but was unsure what he was pleading for anymore. “Please. I’m sorry. I won't be rude anymore.”

 _‘Please don’t’_ , he wanted to say. It was useless, though. The Chesapeake Ripper was a monster and he took what he wanted. He was a serial killer and a psychopath and Will could feel his hunger as if it was his own, feel his intent as if he were the one holding Hannibal down and feeding off of the delicious fear. Will Graham grit his teeth and looked away as he let his body go limp.

“Liar.”

There was a snarling growl akin to the sound a wolf would make, accompanied by the sound of Will’s flannel shirt tearing like so much tissue paper. Will didn’t move his arms an inch in his shock as the air met his sparsely haired chest and his nipples grew into solid points as the chilliness of the air caressed him like a lover of which Hannibal Lecter definitely was not. His undershirt hadn’t been torn, however, and it was rucked up at his neck, gathered in a bunch and cinched tightly against his throat. Not enough to choke, but just enough to hurt. The hand squeezing his thigh reached up and then Will found two fingers pressed between his lips as he gaped in shocked fear.

Thick, dirty from the chase earlier, tasting of that and Hannibal’s own flavor, the fingers pressed against his tongue roughly before pinching it and swirling the digits around the smooth muscle. Will’s first instinct to bite down was stopped pretty quick by the sharp thrust that brought Hannibal’s clothed cock snug against Will’s perineum. _‘Oh god’_. Will’s brain short circuited and he sucked the fingers in his mouth before he could be commanded to. Gave in and closed his eyes, gave in and shook beneath the Chesapeake Ripper; gave in and let the tears of shame trail down his face as he felt his own cock twitch and swell at the sensation the fabric of Hannibal’s expensive suit made as he continued to grind between Will’s legs.

“Never lie to me. Do you understand?”

Will nodded and whimpered as the fingers left his mouth. Nodded again as he stared at the back of his eyelids and heard and felt Hannibal shift back enough to press the now wet fingers behind Will’s balls. They scratched gently against the rim of Will’s hole before just the tips pressed passed the clenching muscle. 

Another fat teardrop traveled down Will’s scruffy cheek as he cried out reflexively, knowing what to expect but still on the cusp of shocked surprise. And still he felt his stomach bottom out as the thick digits thrust in unceremoniously, his own slobber the only lubrication, but it might as well have not been there at all. It hadn’t been that day at the hospital, after all. This was almost nice in comparison. 

“Open your eyes and look at me. Now.”

Will shook his head vigorously.

“Open. Your eyes. Now, Will.”

Will shook his head again and bit his lip harshly.

“Look at me now or you will regret it quite a lot.”

Hannibal’s voice was a growl now, but Will was helpless to his own emotions. He wanted to obey but he couldn’t because seeing those eyes right now was worse than anything Will could possibly fathom. Bound above his head, his hands clenched into fists so hard his nails caused crescent indents to form. His chest heaved on a breath that was torn from him seconds later as the impossibly wide head of Hannibal Lecter’s cock was released from pants and underwear to slap against Will’s balls. The fingers that had just fucked into him wrapped around the base of that seemingly massive cock. The undershirt cinched tighter against Will’s bared throat, and then he felt his asshole gape wide around the girth as it was fed into him in a single violent thrust.

And Will did scream. He felt himself torn in pieces and he screamed. His throat was raw on the fourth lungful of air that expelled in a sobbing scream, that cut off as he began to cry in earnest, and then he screamed more as Hannibal began to move within him. There was no tender lovemaking involved on the field outside Will’s home. There would never be lovemaking of any kind after this, he felt abstractly, as his brain struggled to make sense of anything. Tried so hard but failed as the man pinning him thrust into his asshole again and again. A large hand pressed bruises into his hip while the other one continued to slowly cut off his supply of oxygen again.

“I could have been so much more gentle, little one,” Hannibal was murmuring against his ear. “If you would just listen and stop being so _rude_.”

Hannibal lapped at the tears falling from his still tightly closed eyes. Will could feel and hear the man panting with his exertion. He tried to escape into his mind but the pain was too centering. The fat cock shoving in and out of him became the focus of everything; the bulbous head pressing passed the quivering muscle with a pop, the length sliding into him with a disgusting squelching sound that Will was almost certain was the sound of his blood now being used as lubrication. Every thrust returned the Ripper’s organ to its new home inside of Will and he cried out each time with the force behind each one. It was easy to lose track of time entirely and Will did quite easily as stars burst behind his eyelids and he cried endlessly.

“Please,” he whimpered.

The Chesapeake Ripper came to a stop with a grunt. He looked down at the vulnerable face of Will Graham, soaked with tears, lip bleeding from his own teeth. There was a smudge of dirt on his forehead, and Hannibal let go of the undershirt to wipe it away softly with his thumb. There was no pity or mercy or affection behind the action though. He rocked against the unwilling body a few more times before pulling out entirely. Finally those eyes opened and looked up at him in confusion.

What a mistake that was.

Will found the sharp-toothed grin pointed down at him and the crimson eyes glittering with mirth. He had a second to open his mouth before Hannibal bodily picked him up and sat back on his heels, one hand coming to rest against one of Will’s asscheeks as he wrapped the smaller man’s legs around his waist. Sinking back into the tight heat had Hannibal moaning in pleasure as he forced Will’s still bound wrists over his head so that he had no option but to wrap his arms around Hannibal’s neck. 

_‘Oh fuck’_.

So deep. The monster’s cock was so deep inside of him that Will felt like the head must be nudging into his guts. The position allowed Hannibal to clasp both his hands at Will’s hips to steady and move him as he pleased, meet his own thrusts into the abused and stretched hole that he conquered. Will pressed his face into Hannibal’s hair and clenched his teeth and cried in embarrassment as he felt his body fighting with too many sensations. Cried as shame filled him again as his cock grew hard and was now a solid line that was ground against his assailant’s stomach steadily. There was the steady slapping sound of skin on skin, both of their breath heavy and panting, Will’s sobbing and Hannibal’s grunting. The gross noises his hole made as it sucked the thick cock inside of him. Will wrapped his arms tight around Hannibal’s neck and threw his head back and screamed himself raw.

Hannibal growled against his throat and sunk his teeth into the sweat-damp juncture between neck and shoulder. He squeezed the smaller man against his body tightly and cruelly and orgasmed inside of his clenching and spasming heat. Blood oozed from around his teeth and ran down his chin to drip across a heaving chest and and shaking stomach, mingling with Will’s own spend there. 

The Chesapeake Ripper panted and smirked, victorious. He had possessed every single part of Will, mind and body and soul, in that moment. To say he was pleased would be an understatement. For Will, the shame had eaten every other emotion and sensation and he had stopped crying, stopped screaming, just sat there in Hannibal’s lap, cock still sunk deep within him, acutely aware of the sticky mess on his stomach.

_The bars were cold and solid and that tongue lapped at the shell of his ear before teeth nipped at the lobe. The digits fucking into him jerked harshly. Will’s mouth was full of his own blood and a scream that wanted out and to never stop. Instead it was a moan he only just managed to stop as he felt his prick twitch in his uniform pants._

“I could smell you,” Hannibal said softly in the present moment. “You were so delicious even as you merely walked with me back to my cell. I could smell your want the first time I looked into your eyes.”

"No...," Will denied but it was useless.

He felt the tears drying on his face as exhaustion snapped at him. Will was out cold in moments.

-*.*.*.*-

Will Graham woke up in his own bed. From the kitchen came the smell of eggs and bacon. He was naked and cleaned and the blankets had been pulled up to his chin as he lay on his back. One glance told him all his dogs were present and accounted for, curled up in their beds and snoring softly. Another glance out the window showed the sun struggling upwards as dawn approached. A last glance found pajamas folded at the foot of the mattress.

Moments later Hannibal Lecter walked into the room carrying two plates, one of which he handed to Will, the other he kept for himself as he sat in one of the chairs at the foot of Will’s bed. He tugged it closer first, and didn’t tuck into his food right away. He opted to look into Will’s eyes with his customary small smirk.

Will felt hatred swell inside of him but he didn’t look away. Picked up his fork and shoved some egg into his mouth as his eyes narrowed at Hannibal.

He had absolutely no idea what would happen next.


	3. When You're Strange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What did you do to my dogs?” Will asked quietly
> 
> He let the fork and butter knife clatter on his plate of half-finished breakfast. The loud sound had a few furred ears perking in interest, but none of his pack moved. 
> 
> “I’ve done nothing. They are merely susceptible to kind words and a handful of food,” Hannibal murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I'm reposting this chapter! I've had it sitting around for a bit while I tried to figure out where I wanted this story to go/if I wanted it to even continue. I've decided I do, and so here we are :D I have the next chapter started, a good few pages in, but with my Zombie AU being my main focus, this one wont likely update AS OFTEN. I'll try though ♥
> 
> Thank you all so very very much for the comments and kudos and everything. You make me smile ^_^

“What did you do to my dogs?” Will asked quietly

He let the fork and butter knife clatter on his plate of half-finished breakfast. The loud sound had a few furred ears perking in interest, but none of his pack moved. 

“I’ve done nothing. They are merely susceptible to kind words and a handful of food,” Hannibal murmured.

 _Bullshit_ , Will almost said. He held his tongue, though. The air was tense between the two men, and rightfully so. Hannibal brought another mouthful of scramble to his lips and devoured it while looking at Will unblinkingly, one eyebrow raised. There was a challenge in that expression that the man on the bed wanted to rise to but wisely didn’t. Will Graham merely pursed his lips in response and then returned to his food.

“You ought to shop more, Mr. Graham,” Hannibal continued. “There is barely anything in your fridge or cupboards.”

“Yeah, well I wasn’t expecting company,” Will responded, and he clutched at the silverware in his hands tightly, wanting Hannibal to leave and wondering why he hadn’t - _‘Why are you still here?’_

“You should have been.”

The man in the chair shifted to cross one knee over the other, balancing his now empty plate absentmindedly as he regarded Will. The meal had been simple, far more simple than Hannibal was used to cooking, much less presenting, but it was satisfying. His eyes dropped to Will’s unfinished plate pointedly after shifting between narrowed blue ones as he waited for the smaller man to make his move. He had no doubt there would be one.

“How _rude_ of me,” Will said.

Tilting his head slightly, Hannibal’s eyes narrowed as he looked up again to meet Will’s, but the man had looked away, down at the plate in his lap as he sat in his bed with his back to the wall. His left hand had tightened around the butter knife, and the Chesapeake Ripper almost smiled as he tensed in preparation.

“Quite. In fact I’m still rather upset you didn’t take me serious that day at the hospital,” Hannibal pushed and prodded and tried to influence the man into motion, excited and barely refraining from licking his lips as the electric tension in the air increased tenfold; Will’s hand shifted suddenly and the knife rose.

But he merely cut into the eggs with it, separating the remaining protein into smaller segments to chew easier. He hadn’t touched the bacon at all, despite knowing it wasn’t anything other than pig, as it had come from his own kitchen, but Will wasn’t going to chance it. He kept his eyes squinted at his plate as his thoughts raced. In a cursory glance around his room while Hannibal had been eating, he’d spotted his cell phone still sitting innocuously on the fireplace mantel. Will plotted silently as he finished up his eggs.

“Should I apologize?” Will questioned.

“Hardly. Though, perhaps regardless you can make it up to me,” The Ripper was smirking and Will could hear it in his tone. “While I did not expect you to preen and prepare after you left that day, I thought I made it quite clear that I would find you. Perhaps that is why you remained so close, though.”

Will bit his lip harshly as he swallowed a growl. His control slipped as he imagined Hannibal’s features even though the man sat before him right now. The casual way he spoke, the picture he painted of a ready and willing person that Will most definitely had not been and still wasn’t. He tried to comfort himself with the thought that the Ripper was obviously insane, but he couldn’t close the door on the disquiet that gathered in his own guts. Finally looking up, Will took in the arrogant expression schooling Hannibal’s face, didn’t meet the dead eyes, focused instead on his forehead and along his hairline. Those silvering locks were slicked back again, not a strand out of place.

“I owe you nothing,” Will snapped.

“On the contrary.”

“On the- Bullshit. I’m not a fucking swooning maiden, Lecter. You’re here to take what you want regardless, not because I want you to be or want anything at all from you,” Will could hear his voice getting louder but he didn’t stop -he had to keep the bigger man distracted for just a bit longer. “You’re a monster and you raped me. Twice.”

The words were filthy. Hannibal was a proud man, Will knew. Could tell the first time he laid eyes on him, cuffed and chained and still fucking in control. Pride was easy to poke and shape and manipulate, though. He just had to push just enough, play his part, which wasn’t hard to do, as he was as angry as he allowed his voice to sound, biting off the word ‘twice’ with a snarl. His entire being was rage and hatred at having had to relinquish any control to the beast in the chair before him. Inwardly, Will prepared himself to move, finally. 

“I owe you nothing and I would kill you right now if I could,” he growled.

 _There_ , they both thought.

Will’s plate went flying at Hannibal’s face, bacon soaring onto the ground and rousing the dogs. There was a yip from Winston and then a slight chaos of fur and clicking claws as the pack converged on the spilled food. Hannibal had been expecting the knife, not the plate, but he got his arm up, his own plate clattering with a crack to the floor as Will dove naked out of the bed and stumbled not towards the front door but the fireplace. Panting slightly, Will’s hand closed around the cold device and he swiped it on resolutely, and sweat painted his brow and slicked his fingers but he dialed the three numbers in success.

Hannibal snarled loudly behind him but Will was filled with victorious elation as the dial tone crooned. Even if he couldn’t say anything, they would have his location and send help, and Hannibal would leave or stay and get apprehended. _Or kill me right now _. Will’s triumph bled out the second before a large hand wrapped around his throat and another knocked the cell phone from his grasp, and time became sluggish as his airway was promptly compromised and he was pulled tightly against a strong chest. Naked skin pressed against the soft button down shirt Hannibal was wearing tucked into his suit pants. The hand across his chest dug nails into his skin harshly.__

__“You stupid boy,” was growled into his ear. “The things you force me to do for us.”_ _

__“No, no, n- let me _go_ , Hannibal,” Will choked out just barely as he tried to shrug bodily from the strong clasp of the predator._ _

__Nose in dark and sweat-damp curls, Hannibal sighed longsufferingly and tightened the hand digging into Will’s fragile throat. He likened the slighter man in his arms to a bird that he wanted to crush. Distantly he heard a soft voice on the phone and it centered him as the want faded before it could become a need. _Perhaps a cage_ , Hannibal decided. _ _

__“Listen to me now, Will,” he cooed. “Do I have your attention?”_ _

__Will sputtered and gasped as his throat was finally released, heaving in and out as his body desperately attempted to fill itself. Fingers lit on his jaw and turned his head until he could see Hannibal in his periphery, and Will sobbed before he could help himself._ _

__“Y-yes,” he gasped._ _

__“Good, good. Now, you’ve just made a very bad mistake, haven’t you?”_ _

__“Yes,” Will agreed blindly._ _

__“Good. I’m happy we are on the same page. Now, I’m going to tell you something. Are you ready?”_ _

__“Yes!”_ _

___Oh god, oh god, oh god please help me_._ _

__There was no god for Will._ _

__“I am going to press this cluster of nerves and you are going to lose consciousness. When you wake up, you will no longer be in your home.”_ _

__“Noo,” Will felt his eyes watering as he let the words make sense. “You can’t.”_ _

__“I can. If you thought I was going to kill you now, you’re not as bright as I imagined. Regardless. The call went through and the authorities will be here soon, so your dogs will be seen to. But you will not be back here for a very long time. Nod if you understand me. Begging does nothing but annoy me.”_ _

__Will nodded vigorously before shaking his head in the next beat. He tried to step on Hannibal’s feet but the man still wore his shoes and it was useless. Panic was the only thing now restricting Will’s ability to draw oxygen as he fought to get away, but Hannibal merely smiled against his ear. The dogs whined and barked and wove around the two men standing at the fireplace, sensing their master’s disquiet but confused, as the stranger had been very nice to them. Catching sight of Winston tilting his head up at him, Will felt his heart swell painfully, loving his dogs regardless because he knew they were only doing what was in their gentle natures. He had a moment of clarity as he was released just then and shoved forward, but it lasted mere seconds before a sharp pain cut through his mind and body, and he dropped to the floor limply._ _

__The last thing he was aware of was the tiny voice repeatedly saying ‘hello, are you there, sir? hello?’_ _

__-*.*.*.*-_ _

__“Hello, Will. Welcome back.”_ _

__Groggily, Will forced his head to turn to his left. They were in the black car Hannibal had presumably drove to his home in Wolf Trap, Virginia, and the vehicle was racing down an empty road. There was soft classical music drifting out of the speakers on the dash, and outside the sun was cheery and bright. One shift told him that his right hand was cuffed to the passenger side door._ _

__“Where are we?” Will asked, and even though he knew he wouldn’t get an answer, he felt like he had to do something._ _

__“Never you mind that. It’s best you’re less aware in this situation.”_ _

__“For me or for you?”_ _

__“For you, of course.”_ _

__Half-thought plans tried to form as Will shook his head and sat up straighter to cast his eyes along the wilderness outside. There were no signs immediately, and the frustration accompanying that almost had him growling. It felt like everything in the world was converging just to make him miserable and frightened and lost. His thoughts were interrupted just then by the large hand coming to rest on his thigh gently, thumb rubbing soothing circles into bare flesh, and Will twitched and shot a glare at Hannibal as his stomach clenched. He realized belatedly that he was dressed now, in his blue boxers and a white t shirt._ _

__“You can’t just take someone like an object,” Will said as he stared at his captor’s straight features as the man drove. “You can’t just do this.”_ _

__“Can’t I? Do you see anyone stopping me currently?”_ _

__“No. But they will.”_ _

__“Until then, I’ve nothing to worry about. Unless you intend to give me something to worry about, of course. Do you?” The unspoken threat beneath the words was obvious._ _

__“I don’t know,” Will answered, and it’s the truth._ _

__Silence fell over them. Will allowed himself briefly to tune out and just let the moment exist. The music has shifted to a piano piece accompanied by violins, and the car moved smoothly over the road, the motion almost soothing. They passed a speed limit sign and Will snapped to. The next sign let him know the exit to an unfamiliar place is coming up on the right, and he tensed in anger._ _

__“I told you to never mind, Will. Stop looking out the window and trying to figure out where we are. Save yourself the trouble,” Hannibal’s voice was soft and knowing, and the hand stroking his thigh tightened its grip briefly._ _

__“You could just blindfold me,” Will suggested before he could think on it, and he knew he had once again demonstrated his incredible lack of self-preservation._ _

__Hannibal laughed and released his thigh to bring his hand back to the steering wheel, still not looking away from the road. He could see Will from his periphery, however, and he was delighted to note that the younger man was already plotting his next move, albeit slowly and handicapped by confusion and displacement. The vehicle was silent now save for the music and their breathing and the road sounds as the car picked up speed at Hannibal’s leisure. Truthfully, he’d hoped Will would remain unconscious until he got them to a backwoods motel or something rather removed for the meantime until he could get his finances figured out. He had a safe house in the next state but was hesitant to cross any lines after Will had managed to contact the authorities: the smaller man had been correct with his ‘they will’, not because Hannibal was certain they _would_ catch him, but that they would look for Will Graham once it was noted he was missing._ _

__Hannibal smiled at the road before him._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♥


	4. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lamp giving off dusty light was on the nightstand to his left, and sitting in a chair at a stained table in front of the windows with curtains pulled closed, was the Chesapeake Ripper.
> 
> “You’re finally awake,” his smooth accented voice had a strange tone to it that Will couldn’t make sense of.

Will awoke tied to a bed in what he assumed was a motel room. One of those gross ones that appeared to comprise entirely of dull browns and awful wallpaper patterns. There was a huge box television on a rickety dresser situated in front of the single king-sized bed, the paint-chipped but sturdy headboard of which he was bound to. A lamp giving off dusty light was on the nightstand to his left, and sitting in a chair at a stained table in front of the windows with curtains pulled closed, was the Chesapeake Ripper.

“You’re finally awake,” his smooth accented voice had a strange tone to it that Will couldn’t make sense of.

“I don’t remember going to sleep,” Will muttered and looked away, studied the pattern of the ceiling with his lip curling.

“Lulled by the lack of traffic signs, I imagine.”

_So I did actually wake up in that car_ , he realized. He’d been wondering if it had been a dream. He tugged half-heartedly at the sheets tied securely around his wrists as he searched the room again. There was a black duffel bag sitting on the floor by the door that he presumed lead into the bathroom, and the exit was on the other side of the window Hannibal lounged by. The air smelled old and musty and, more immediately, like dried blood and sweat from his own person. 

“Why?” he asked.

“Why what?” Hannibal sounded bored, and that was enough to piss Will off, now that he was awake.

“Why am I here? Why are you taking me -where are we even going?”

Silence met every single one of his questions and Will snapped his stormy blue gaze back onto Hannibal. The man was chewing on his thumbnail and sitting pensively now, his dark eyes glazed over slightly as he appeared to be lost in thought. Sitting in a hotel room with a man tied to a bed, a man he had overpowered and assaulted many times over, whom he’d unhitched from a life of solitude amongst rescued stray dogs and miles and miles of forested land. No, even before that. Will felt his chest sting painfully as he realized he’d been holding his breath, let it out in a loud exhale, and then began to work at his binds, uncaring of the fact that he probably wouldn’t get far, mainly wanting a hand free so he could at last try to punch his captor in his stupid face.  
His body protested with soreness, muscles having been worked past their limit the last several hours. Will could feel every bite and scratch and bruise, could even imagine the phantom sting of the hand slapping him around like a ragdoll. It was with great effort that he even managed to shift into a partial sitting position, as his feet hadn’t been given the same treatment as his wrists. In a flash the Ripper was upon him, hand grasping like the talon of a bird to dig sharp digits into the soft flesh of his throat, and he held Will down on the bed and aborted any other attempts at movement.

“In due time,” the man snarled into Will’s widened, panicking eyes, and he inhaled the scent of fear as if it were a fresh cup of coffee, tightened his grip infinitesimally, and then tore away just as fast as he had been upon the bound man.

Will closed his mouth and remained silent for a long time, mind turning over the other’s words slowly, confused and terrified and angry -angrier than he’d ever been before. He wanted answers now, and more than that he wanted to go home, pretend none of this had happened if he couldn’t actually reverse time and make sure it _hadn’t_. Instead he remained tied up on the bed in a filthy motel room who knew how many miles away from Wolf Trap, Virginia. And the Ripper, he continued to sit as if lost in thought, his long fingers tap-tap-tapping against the table in a complicated pattern that Will decided was safe to focus on for now, something to ground him that wasn’t the aches and bruises on the surface of his skin, or the wounds deeper within that would never leave.

Even if those fingers caused each and every one of them.

-*.*.*.*-

The sound of the door slamming shut woke Will, who cursed himself inwardly at having fallen asleep in the first place, and so easily at that. He watched bleary-eyed as Hannibal strode to the end of the bed and peered at him blankly.

“You appear so innocent when you sleep,” he commented, voice also blank.

“I guess you had a while to watch me, huh?” Will said -he wanted to spit in the man’s face, more than anything in that moment.

“I did.”

He said it as if he’d merely confirmed that yes, the sky was indeed blue. Rage bubbled into Will’s half-asleep mind, but he tamped it down and chose to look away from his captor’s lightless eyes. The curtains pulled tight over the window made the light drifting in pale and dusty, and the pattern on the fabric was faded.

“How long did I sleep?” he asked quietly.

“Through the night. It is early morning now,” Hannibal answered from the end of the bed.

“So you just stayed up all night and watched me like a fucking creeper?”

“Your language is filthy,” the Ripper sounded less empty now as a note of indignation filled his voice. 

“Fuck you,” Will returned his gaze to the man hovering at his feet, glaring into eyes that were black in the dim lighting of the motel room.

He saw the moment Hannibal tipped into anger, though it was brief and gone so quickly Will wondered if he had imagined it. In seconds, however, the monster circled around the bed and tore at the rope binding him, unravelling the length and then tangling one of his hands into Will’s hair to grip hard. He barely had time to cry out in pain before he was forced from the bed and shoved forwards, where he banged into the bathroom door. Hannibal pressed against him bodily, warm and strong and breathing into the nape of Will’s neck hotly.

“I’m beginning to wonder if I should gag you,” Hannibal purred.

Will remained quiet other than grunting once, when Hannibal shoved at him once more and forced him onto the tips of his toes. The younger man realized too late that the Ripper was hard, cock pressing insistently into Will’s clothed ass, and he squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip to silence the words of anger or despair that wanted out. He expected Hannibal to strip him, have his way right there, but the bigger man merely growled into his ear and then stepped away completely, reaching forward to grasp the doorknob and turn it. The door swung open and Will tripped, landing on his knees on the unforgiving tile of the bathroom floor.

“You need a bath,” the voice above him stated. “Strip, now. I will run the water for you.”

_How nice_ , Will thought as he gained his bearings and stood once more. Hannibal closed and locked the door behind him, and then strode over to the combination bath and shower, the white enamel surface rusted along the edges lining the back wall. The tap squealed when turned, and the water ran light brown for a few seconds, fading into clearness the longer it ran. Steam filled the small bathroom as the tub filled, and Will stared at the Ripper’s hands as he dipped his long fingers into the hot water.

“I told you to strip,” his voice said, calm despite having to repeat himself.

“Can’t you leave the room? It’s not like there’s a window in here that I can get away through,” the younger man gestured around him.

Indeed the tiny bathroom had no window, not even a small one to aid in circulating the air within. It had a toilet and a dirty sink, and a mirror with finger prints smudged onto the reflective surface. The walls were tiled as well, perhaps having once been white, now approaching a dirty yellow instead. 

“I will remain here,” Hannibal stated.

Will hadn’t expected anything less. He tugged his t shirt over his head and let it fall to his feet, and then grasped the waistband of his boxers. He saw no point in hesitating, as the man had seen him naked already, but still he did, eyeing the Ripper as he stood with his arms crossed primly behind his back while he waited for Will to obey. _Fucking hell_ , Will cursed inwardly and let the last article of clothing drop to the floor, and then he strode over to the bath and stepped into the scalding hot water before either of them could say a word.

“Very good,” Hannibal said.

His accented voice remained bereft of emotion despite the praise. Will slowly sank into the hot water, easing himself down until he lay with his head against one end of the bathtub and his feet at the other. His knees poked out of the water, as it wasn’t quite sizeable enough to fit his height, and his hands grasped at the smooth enamel sides anxiously. Hannibal stood still for another few moments, and then he was kneeling by Will’s head and reaching forward. The younger man couldn’t stop the flinch from happening as the other proceeded to scrub his fingers into Will’s hair, scratching almost pleasantly along his scalp. 

A sweet aroma filled Will’s nostrils, and he didn’t even bother to wonder where the shampoo had come from. Honestly, he was more focused on the heated water as it soothed his aches and calmed his thoughts, and he sighed softly as he finally lost the layer of nervous sweat that had soaked him since waking up in the car. He tipped his head back wordlessly when Hannibal urged him, and the Ripper cupped his hands, gathering up water to rinse out dark curls. It seemed to be over far too quickly, though, and Will was snapped back from the gentle peace of the steamy hot bath, looking up at the large towel that Hannibal held open for him.

“Come,” the Ripper said.

Will struggled to his feet, limbs feeling heavy and tired but thankfully cleaned, and he kept his mouth shut tight when Hannibal dried him, scrubbing the towel’s scratchy fabric almost harshly along his tender skin. He closed his eyes when his hair got the same treatment, and then breathed out softly in relief when Hannibal stepped away and left him wrapped snugly, covered for a short time as he followed the man back out into the motel room. The silence between them was pregnant with tension, and Will stopped at the foot of the bed he had been tied to.

“Lay down,” came the command, as Hannibal began to strip out of his own clothes.

“No,” Will whispered.

“I beg your pardon?” Hannibal paused, shirt half off with his arms still within the sleeves, muscular arms seeming to bulge in the dim light.

The younger man looked over at the Ripper, whose chest was strong and covered in a dense layer of thick curls, and whose abdominal muscles were fit and his stomach flat. Will swallowed around a lump in his throat and took a single step away from the bed as the other finished stripping until he stood in his black briefs. Hannibal’s legs were long and toned and he knew suddenly why his escape on his front lawn had been cut short so easily. Hannibal Lecter was a goddamn powerhouse of a man.

“Don’t make this harder on yourself than it has to be,” the man said warningly. “Get in bed and I will not tie you.”

“Bullshit,” Will snapped.

He had no warning, no flashing eyes, no sharp teeth bared in indignation, and no _‘Language, Will’_. One second he was backing away from the dangerous man, and the next Will was falling face-first onto the bed, ears ringing and head stinging from the hit that had sent him flying forwards. He landed in a tangle, towel barely managing to cover him, and that didn’t matter seconds later when it was torn from him and tossed uncaringly away. He was left naked and shivering and attempting to crawl away.

“Oh, Will,” Hannibal sighed.

He snatched one of Will’s ankles and pulled him backwards, dislodging his knees from beneath him, and the younger man found himself laying flat on the blankets. The mattress shifted as Hannibal followed and pressed his body on top of Will’s, forcing him to take his considerable weight and ignoring the expected, grunting complaint. It wasn’t a comfortable position in the very least, but eventually Will ceased his struggles, having no other choice other than to accept his trapped position. He buried his face into a pillow that smelled like mildew and focused on catching his breath, and Hannibal chuckled into his ear, breath stirring the drying hair there. Pressed flush together, there was no denying what it was that the Ripper wanted now that Will was naked and vulnerable on the motel bed, skin still pink from the thorough drying he’d received earlier.

Will shut his eyes and counted to ten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut in the next chapter :D SORRY FOR THE CLIFFHANGER, I love you all, I swear ♥


	5. Brutality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you behave, there will be no more pain,” the Ripper promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POOR WILL D":
> 
> Not beta read~

It was almost suffocatingly hot, trapped beneath Hannibal, who let his weight bear Will down into the dusty hotel bedding. Breath fanned against his ear, and he could feel the other man’s chest hair tickling along his back -and further down, the heavy, warm presence of a clothed erection nudged between his asscheeks. The Ripper wasted no time with games, he merely thrust his hips into Will’s slowly and persistently, grinding into him, until the younger man could clearly feel the wet patch as it developed, soaking through thin black briefs as the motions continued. It almost seemed that Hannibal would be satisfied with slowly rocking their bodies together, and Will _almost_ allowed himself to think that that was the truth -almost. It was only partially a surprise when the man atop him shifted, pulling away until he was kneeling behind Will.

“Stay with me,” Hannibal said.

Will couldn’t prevent the laugh from bursting out of him, and though it was muffled in the pillow, the bed shook minutely with the force of it. He heard Hannibal click his tongue disapprovingly, and wanted to turn his face so that he could attempt to spit in the other’s direction. Anything, at this point, even if it depressed him beyond description that spitting would be the only thing he could manage, or the last thing that he would do. As if reading his mind, Hannibal moved once more, gripping onto his hips hard and hauling Will’s lower body into his lap, where he smacked both of the man’s asscheeks before grabbing handfuls of the supple flesh. 

“I hope you know I feel very fortunate that you worked at my place of incarceration, dear Will,” the accented voice murmured. “We would not be here otherwise. Together.”

_God forbid_ Will almost said. He bit his lip and focused on the dry surface of the pillow, the unpleasant mildew scent filling his nostrils as he kept his sight carefully closed off from the world, and from the man who handled him as if he were a piece of property. His body felt heavy and ached for sleep, or some break from the monstrous circumstance he found himself trapped within, but instead he was completely aware as Hannibal kneaded the flesh of his asscheeks, squeezing enough to sting and then spreading him wide open. It was obscene and Will hissed involuntarily as his hole was bared to the air, furled muscle clenching tightly, vulnerable and revealed as if it were a prize for the Ripper.

“Will, Will, Will,” Hannibal purred. “Stop _hiding_.”

Long fingers tangled in his still damp hair to pull his head roughly back, and Will gasped at the familiar motion, bit his lip again, harder this time, and attempted to block out the monster despite it all. The Ripper’s new angle had his erection pressing snug between his cheeks, warmth nudging along his crack until it rested over his puckered entrance, a wholly intimate feeling that filled the younger man with disgust, his hands fisting in the blankets beneath him and his body tensing. He lashed out instinctively, unable to just lay there and take it any longer.

“ _Fuck you!_ ” he shouted as he wheeled around, and he kicked out with one foot, feeling it impact into Hannibal’s side.

The kidney shot merely succeeded in making Hannibal angry, and he growled, the bored atmosphere shifting as he finally showed emotion, eyes flashing dangerously in the split second that Will managed to look back at him. He balked, not quite regretting his move, but most definitely regretting the punishment that would follow -so he struck again, or tried to, hand caught mid-swing and squeezed in a grip so strong that his fingers creaked. In seconds, Hannibal was hauling him up the bed and securing his wrists tightly with the ropes once more, unforgivingly tugging at the lengths until the young man’s wrists were stinging painfully. Afterwards, he dug his blunt nails into Will’s thighs, spreading him wide open once more, lodging a knee between his legs and crushing his soft cock and balls cruelly.

“I’m sorry!” Will cried out, wincing harshly at the twin agonies of his wrists and his sensitive parts as they were squashed into his own body.

“Liar,” Hannibal hissed.

He slapped one large hand upon Will’s ass, the hit angled precisely to strike his asshole. Will grunted and twitched bodily at the hit, lowering his face into the pillow once more and biting back a sob. Another slap followed, reddening both of his cheeks as one after another smack was dealt to his ass, a punishment that had Will both mollified and mortified. The Ripper was _spanking_ him. The notion pissed Will of as surely as anything else had, and the rollercoaster of emotions gripped him in full thrall as Hannibal continued to hit his ass again and again, a seemingly endless series of attacks that had him hissing and crying out the longer they went on, breath hitching as his body rocked into the mattress.

“ _Please, Hannibal, I’m sorry_ ,” he repeated, squirming uselessly in his bonds.

“You only mean it now because you are in pain,” Hannibal growled -and he brought his hand down over Will’s hole once more, a stinging impact at his most intimate spot.

The hand remained there, cupped over his entrance, slipped betwixt his sore, red cheeks. Will’s lower body felt numb, periodically jolting as his cock was pressed into his belly by Hannibal’s knee even still. He lay with his face on the dirty pillow as he whispered ‘sorry’ in a mantra, repeating it until he became aware that Hannibal was no longer hitting him.

“If you behave, there will be no more pain,” the Ripper promised.

Will didn’t believe that for a second, but he nodded emphatically either way. Finally, blessedly, Hannibal moved, freeing his cock and balls from their tight prison, kneeling behind him once more and gently stroking over his abused asscheeks. Will managed to catch his breath, and he closed his eyes as he calmed down as much as he could manage in his present circumstance. He knew there was much more to go, knew the fixation on his body had only begun, and that the thrill of the fight had filled Hannibal with clear intention instead of manufactured boredom. It was maddening, to realize that his attempt to fight back, to get away, to neutralize the Ripper enough to run out of the motel room and scream for help, had most likely been exactly what the other had wanted. A little fight to make things exciting.

Hannibal was, after all, a beast.

And he remained kneeling over Will’s once more prone body, hands idly stroking up and down his quivering thighs, the motion almost soothing before it was interrupted by Hannibal _spitting_ on him. The warm fluid landed wetly in his hole, and then oozed inside of him as his body spasmed against his will. Again, Hannibal spit, the action loud and lewd and soaking between his cheeks once more. It was disgusting and violating, and Will squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed a curse. His body was already taut with tension, stretched upon an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, far away from his home, where he had thought he’d been safe. The rope binding his wrists bit into his flesh, rubbing it raw and red as he shifted reflexively away from the man abusing him and subsequently failed.

The first finger pushed into him without warning, and he cried out at the barely slicked intrusion. Hannibal’s fingers were long and thick, and he nudged a second digit inside to the first knuckle alongside the other, no sound coming from lips that Will could clearly imagine bared in a silent snarl to show off his gleaming sharp teeth. Most likely the man’s face was arranged into blankness once more, but Will didn’t linger on that thought long as tears pricked his eyes. The preparation was dry and it felt as if he were being torn in half, and a third finger wiggled inside of him -and then Hannibal spread his hand, scissoring him open without a care to the dryness, forcing his hole to take what he gave it no matter the amount of suffering Will had to go through. His face was soaked with his tears by the time the Ripper removed his fingers, and he distantly heard the man stripping himself of his briefs before spitting into his hand.

When the wide cockhead pressed inside of him, Will sobbed without any care left to his dignity. The thick shaft sank into him inch by inch, and his insides felt as if they were being cut open, and it wasn’t hard to imagine that the warm wetness that he could feel oozing out of him was most likely his own blood. Hannibal bottomed out with a single grunt, and then began to grind against him as he had earlier, pulling out barely halfway before thrusting back in. The thick head nudged along his prostate at every turn, Hannibal’s hips rolling into his own almost gently. 

“Shhhh, Will,” Hannibal purred.

His furred chest lay flush along Will’s back now, and his mouth sucked at Will’s neck and ear as he bore the smaller man down into the mattress. His thrusts picked up their pace and strength when Will’s sobs petered out, and there was no doubt in his mind that the Ripper had been waiting for that exact moment to rut into him brutally. The mattress creaked and Will was shoved up the bed with each punishing, savage thrust, and sweat broke out on both of their bodies as the act continued on. It felt endless to Will, as Hannibal pulled out and slammed back home again and again and again, until the rocking, jolting motion of their bodies meeting felt like a boat at sea during a storm. The young man kept his face buried into the pillow, the fabric soaked with his tears now, even as Hannibal dotted soft kisses on his neck and shoulders while he fucked him raw. 

“ _Will_ ,” Hannibal growled.

The Ripper came nestled so deep inside of him that Will shuddered, hot ropes of come spurting into him. Hannibal continued to roll his hips into Will’s body afterwards until he was too soft to continue, and he slipped out with a satisfied sigh. 

Will lost consciousness almost immediately, exhausted from the abuse and the horror of his reality.

-*.*.*.*-

He woke moments later when Hannibal freed him from his binds and helped him turn around. Laying on his back, Will could breath easier, but he kept his eyes shut tight as if it would do anything. Soft fingertips stroked through his hair, down his neck and then tickled across his chest.

“Open your eyes,” the Ripper commanded.

Will obeyed, too tired to be difficult any longer. He observed Hannibal as the man leaned into his range of vision, and he wasn’t even gifted with the chance to avoid eye contact, the man’s hand coming up to grip his jaw tight. He forced Will to look into his black unblinking eyes, until the smaller man shook. There was nothing there, as always; nothingness existed behind Hannibal’s demonic eyes. His features were blank and his eyes were empty, and in that moment Will truly became convinced that he would never escape from this hell. Even if the authorities rescued him, the soullessness of the monster perched above him would haunt him into his death.

“You didn’t enjoy that, did you?” Hannibal asked, tone polite. “What a shame. I did.”

And his hand wrapped around Will’s soft cock gently, like a lover, and he stroked the length slowly as he forcibly held the other’s gaze, wide red-rimmed blue eyes staring into his own. If Will was anything, it was stubborn, perhaps brave, but he was human, and his cock twitched within the velvet softness of Hannibal’s palm. He didn’t fight the eye-contact even as he grew hard, and he used every ounce of his remaining energy to imitate Hannibal’s blank expression as much as possible as the man jerked him off with easy, almost loving motions, thumb teasing the slit and smearing precome around the head. Will came with a grunt he couldn’t hold down, and he stared into the abyss.

It stared back, endless and all-consuming.

Hannibal stood afterwards and walked into the bathroom to clean up, leaving Will there unbound and unsupervised.

Will Graham closed his eyes and prayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to hell ♥


	6. A Proper Attempt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, Will,” the Ripper said. “Why must you always make our life so difficult?”
> 
> The man’s voice was muffled on the other side of the small building. Will could see the shadow of his feet from under the door, the dim interior contrasting with the light at the seam along the bottom of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WILL IS STRONK! ♥
> 
> NOTE: Went back and added a few things here and there to illustrate the pain that Will is in :D Thank you for the comment, you special someone~ I am happy to attempt to improve my writing in any way, and you've helped me find a bit of peace by going back and editing this chapter a fair bit :D -hugs-

It was easy to be brave when the devil no longer lingered in sight. The door to the bathroom hadn’t been closed all of the way, just a sliver of light glimpsed at the corner of Will’s eye when he opened them both to stare at the ceiling. In his mind, he counted to ten in fast intervals, steeling himself. This was obviously a test, and while he knew that the Ripper wouldn’t make such an obvious blunder, he still endeavored to do what he could to escape; the blankets whispered under him when he rolled over, launched out of the bed, and dove for the door. He had it unlocked and opened just as he heard the bathroom door behind him creak with movement.

Naked, heart in his throat and blood rushing in his ears with a loud _whoosh_ , Will ran as if he were the wind, his urge to attain freedom overpowering the lancing pain that shot up and down his spine. His injuries and the seemingly endless abuse that he’d been dealt over the last several days culminated in a force that he had to battle just as surely as he had to fight to survive Hannibal, and now he pulled ahead of it all with a surge of elation, the searing pain between his legs far from fading, but his body thankfully up to his current race against time. He passed closed doors, feet slapping on cracked pavement, toes flattening weeds that had snuck up here and there. His hair flew out of his face and his breathing grew labored as he approached the office where tenants checked in and retrieved their keys, the window dusty and difficult to see through. The air bit at him with a chill, wind tickling along his naked flesh as he ran, and desperation and relief filled him equally when he reached the entrance and threw open the door. 

There was no one inside.

The desk sat empty, the surface scratched and the paint chipped. There was a bulletin board on the wall behind it with little metal hooks that housed the keys to the rooms. Will distantly heard the door shut behind him with a click as he took two steps forward.

“Hello?” he called out.

His voice didn’t quite echo, but he could imagine it doing so. There wasn’t anyone here. His heart thumped loudly and his breath hitched, and he spotted the door behind the desk the third time he scanned the room. He moved towards it and shouldered through, not looking over his shoulder or sparing a second to think -he just acted, stepping into a dark room and fumbling for a light switch. Adrenaline coursed through Will’s veins as he flipped it on and blinked under the fluorescents, finding himself in a small room with another desk, a dead plant balancing precariously on the edge on one side of it. The chair behind it was occupied but turned around, the figure slumped forward and facing the wall.

“Hello?” Will tried again.

He was walking around the desk to wake the man, grabbing his shoulder and nudging him. The body fell out of the chair with a dull thump, and Will’s heart stopped. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that the man had been dead for several hours, face purple and swollen, the tie that had strangled him still biting into his neck. He hadn’t noticed in his rush for freedom, and he stared down at the corpse numbly for what felt like an eternity. _Fuck_ , Will thought, and he scrubbed his hands back through his hair anxiously, blinking away the sweat that dripped down his forehead and stung his eyes -he was both parts terrified and ecstatic at his chance to get the fuck away, but the latter was fading just as the light had from the man’s eyes, the former owner of the motel snuffed out like a flame and forgotten in the back woods just like his place of work. Will bit back a whimper and reached for the phone on the wall, hardly surprised to find the line dead. 

“Fuck,” he hissed into the air this time.

The walk back out into the front room felt slow, and Will grew heavy with resignation as he limped, energy bleeding out of him and his chest tight with the urge to sob, his collective aches pressing him down as if he were back in the motel room bed with the Ripper atop him. He stepped outside once more and looked over at Hannibal, who walked slowly down the path he had torn down moments earlier, tossing the room keys into the air casually and catching them without looking away from Will. His smirk made the younger man feel ill. 

“Why?” he asked dully.

“The man asked too many questions,” Hannibal spoke in a tone that suggested that it should have been obvious.

Belatedly, Will realized something he had missed when running for his life: the parking lot was completely empty save for Hannibal’s black car. The old motel sat snug in the woods, off of the highway and hidden from view, an inexplicable position for business. 

“You have nowhere to run, Will,” Hannibal said. “Come back and we will rest together for a few hours. Then we will leave.”

“You’re a monster,” Will responded. 

“So you’ve said,” dark eyes glittered in bored amusement. “Regardless, come. Now.”

Will’s heart slowed and his head cleared. For the first time since this had all begun, he allowed himself to accept that he had no other choice. He lowered his head and took a single step forward, then another one, hair flitting into his eyes, lips twitching. Then he ran, again. He heard a growl fill the air but refused to look back, passing the check-in station and circling around it, wincing at the twigs and sharp rocks that pricked at his bare feet. His first intention had been to careen towards the woods, however he knew he risked getting lost, so he made his way behind the building, hand on the brick wall to balance himself, avoiding bushes and other underbrush. There was a pile of firewood here, and he hissed in pain when he managed to step on a jagged piece of a log that had fallen from the haphazard pile, nearly crying out as his body complained with something akin to a lightning strike of hurt.

“ _Will_ ,” Hannibal’s voice yelled from behind him. “ _You have nowhere to go._ ”

“Fuck you,” Will whispered to himself, not stopping for a second -that is, until he spotted an _axe_.

Will snatched the heavy tool up in one hand with a grunt, hands shaking, and he almost dropped it before securing his grip and then continuing on. No plan existed in his thoughts, only the need to get away, far away as possible, and to never stop, if that is what was required of him. His feet stung and something sharp pierced the heel of one, and if blood oozed out and stained the grass behind him, he didn’t notice. Behind his eyes he could picture Hannibal tromping after him, slow and lazy, like the monsters in horror films would, and he almost laughed because right now he was the frantic naked lead stumbling blindly away. 

-*.*.*.*-

The shed wasn’t any bigger than the bathroom in the motel room, although it had a single window, dirtied just as the inside was, and the wooden floor had mud crushed into the cracks, while a workbench sat stuffed in one corner. Will closed the rickety door and clambered under the bench, crouching beneath it and clasping the axe close -and oh, did it hurt to fold his body like this, his violated parts itching warmly, not in the least bit pleasant, drying blood flaking away from his backside as it throbbed and briefly caused him to bite his lip to stifle a sob. One glance beforehand had showed him that Hannibal hadn’t followed him, and yet still his heart thumped at an insanely fast pace because he _knew_ that out of sight meant nothing other than a disadvantage: Hannibal could be anywhere. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and focused on calming down.

His breathing eased as he pictured a calm stream, the ripples of a previous disturbance balancing out, the surface effecting an uninterrupted smoothness that glittered under bright sunlight. Eventually, Will could no longer hear his heart in his ears or feel it clogging his throat, and he arranged his face into a determined expression as he crouched in the dirty shed, ears perked in an effort to pick up any sound out of place. _I’ve got this_ , he reassured himself. _Just stay calm. Breathe._

“ _Will!_ ” Hannibal’s voice called.

He jumped and barely managed to cover a gasp. The Ripper wasn’t as close as he initially feared, his voice merely carrying through the trees, and Will screwed his eyes shut again and steeled himself until he heard the crunch of the monster’s shoes getting closer. _Closer and closer_. When the footsteps stopped, just outside of the shed, Will opened his eyes, pupils dilating, and waited.

“Oh, Will,” the Ripper said. “Why must you always make our life so difficult?”

The man’s voice was muffled on the other side of the small building. Will could see the shadow of his feet from under the door, the dim interior contrasting with the light at the seam along the bottom of it. 

“You’re going to regret this,” the man promised lowly. “Perhaps this time you will learn your lesson, however. I have faith in you, my dear Will.”

And the door banged open, slamming inwards into the wall of the shed. Will launched out from his obvious hiding place and swung the axe without considering the consequences, rage feeding his motion with a growl that echoed in the late morning air. He watched the blade-end arc forwards as if in slow motion, spittle flying from his own lips as he snarled, and the satisfaction that filled him as he watched it sink into Hannibal's bicep amidst a sudden splash of blood made him grin ferally. The shock that filled those heartless eyes, however, made Will Graham feel absolutely _ecstatic_.

He tore the axe out of the wound harshly, and kicked outwards instinctively, his foot connecting with Hannibal’s stomach and driving the man back with a quiet gasp. The graceful, always calm Chesapeake Ripper proceeded to trip over a root behind him, and he went down, landed on his back and smacked his head hard on the ground. It was altogether a sight that Will wanted to take pleasure in, and he did pause for a few seconds, standing over the monster with the axe raised high in the air.

“ _You fucking MONSTER_ ,” he roared, and he brought it down with a grunt, tripping out on the powerful influx of adrenaline that felt like a hit of morphine.

Hannibal moved as if inhuman, so swift that Will couldn’t follow the motion. His large hand sprung out and grasped the haft of the axe just under the head, stopping the strike _inches_ from his face. Panting, Will met Hannibal’s eyes and wondered just why he ever thought they were black -no, oh no, they were a deep shade of red, reminiscent of blood, and far _far_ more monstrous than they ever were before. He was a snake caught in thrall by the charmer, a deer in the headlights, frozen and shattered on the inside. 

“Silly boy,” Hannibal whispered.

The axe sailed away, torn from Will’s grip as if he were a child holding a toy. In less than a second, Hannibal rolled backwards into a somersault and then jumped to his feet, and he paid no mind to his wounded arm at all. Weaponless, Will’s bravado dropped away, just as his heart did down into his stomach. Blood-red eyes narrowed at him.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” were the words that made it through the ringing in Will’s ears. “Even when you want to kill me. Especially then.”

Hannibal straightened and brushed at the dirt on his clothes primly, smoothed his hair back over his head, and then held out a hand to Will. The younger man looked down at it, breathed easier because he was no longer staring into the eyes of the devil, and then he dropped to his knees. _Not fair_ , he bemoaned. Long fingers carded into his dried hair deceptively softly, stroking his scalp and then trailing to the nape of his neck, where he cupped his hand there and drew Will forward until his cheek rested against Hannibal’s leg.

“It’s not fair,” Will said aloud -and exhaustion filled him suddenly, a world’s worth of pain streaming into his being and his conscience, and he just wanted to sleep and _never wake up_.

“Shhh,” Hannibal hushed.

Then Will jolted backwards, jaw struck hard enough to toss him bodily into the wall of the shed behind him, stars in his eyes as he closed them on impact. His skull struck the unyielding wood surface and he cried out involuntarily, reaching out blindly to balance himself only to have his hands slapped away as Hannibal crouched down in front of him.

“You’re going to go to sleep now,” Hannibal informed him, and the Chesapeake Ripper no longer sounded bored.

When the hit came, Will fortunately didn’t feel the pain for long, losing consciousness rapidly. The last thing he remembered seeing were narrowed crimson eyes and the sharp-toothed grin of his very own personal nightmare. 

_Not fair_ , he wanted to repeat, and he imagined that he would forever.

-*.*.*.*-

The Ripper stood over the young man’s prone form, grin falling away. He looked down at the wound on his arm with disgust, noting the blood staining his formerly clean shirt -still, despite the indignity, Hannibal felt pride in his black, shrivelled heart. Dear Will, his very own little beast.

“You’re mine,” he told the unconscious Will Graham.

Hannibal supposed that he had plenty of time to teach that particular lesson, or at least to drive it home succinctly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Will. AT LEAST HE TRIED?


	7. Flutter of a Curtain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Pain,” Will replied blankly. “Pain is what I feel, Hannibal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Like in the show, Hannibal is capable to making things happen swiftly, and I have not written what he gets up to when Will is passed out for a very particular reason :D 
> 
> Not beta read. All mistakes are mine.

Will woke up from a dream just as he succeeded in away from a fathomlessly tall creature whose shadow worked to devour him, and his vision cleared enough to take in Hannibal’s face above him, his blood-red eyes overlapping the monster’s glowing crimson glare as it bore massive fangs dripping with black slime. He gasped loudly and tried to sit up, grunting as he realized too late that his arms were once more bound to the motel bed frame.

“Relax,” Hannibal said gently, a large hand planted on his chest. “You are okay now.”

He was the furthest from okay. Will lay back down flat and directed his gaze at the ceiling, skin tingling at the warm weight of the Ripper’s hand resting upon him. He could feel each point of touch as if the man’s fingertips were alight with flame, burning into his breast and searing his heart. In his dream, he remembered feeling crushed by the surety that he would never truly escape the beast at his back, and despite his finite instance of victory before he awoke, he knew that this version would never end with him coming out on top -or alive, for that matter. There was a tiny dark part of him that wanted to latch onto the urge to push and push until Hannibal killed him -at least then he would be out of this misery.

“How do you feel?” Hannibal inquired.

Will peered at the ceiling and traced the pattern on it with squinting eyes. How did he feel? The Ripper would be the last person in existence deserving to know the answer to that, wouldn’t he? He felt empty, and at the same time, bizarrely full, his heart attempting to convince him that he was doomed while logic told him that he had to live, had to make it out of this. Whether or not revenge was a dish best served cold didn’t matter so long as he operated under the impression that death was the only path to take in the hellish world he found himself trapped in, and Will craved the chance to smite Hannibal down almost as much as he craved freedom, or the ability to forget _everything_. 

“How. Do. You. Feel?” the Ripper asked again, each word enunciated with a deepening, hoarse voice that petered into a growl at the end.

“Pain,” Will replied blankly. “Pain is what I feel, Hannibal.”

Silence reigned for an entire minute. In it, Will heard static that fought to deafen him, and if he knew for certain that he could find any semblance of bliss within it, he would have embraced it with open arms. It was short-lived, however, as Hannibal stood and strode away from the bed, disappearing into the bathroom and running water for a short time before he returned with a damp cloth. Will shut his eyes when he felt the mattress dip under the other man’s weight, and then he hissed and snapped them open to look down at his body in shock. Hannibal’s gaze fixated on his own hands as he maneuvered Will’s legs into position, spreading him wide and wiping the wet cloth in a gentle stripe between his asscheeks. 

“You’ve been torn a bit,” he spoke in a clinical tone. “I would apologize, but quite frankly, you deserved it. You’ve been a very naughty boy, Will.”

Will chose not to respond, despite how strong the urge clawed its way into his voice box -he even opened his mouth to snap a reply, until he quickly realized the futility of it. A strong hand gripped his chin and forced him to look into searching dark eyes, and truthfully, the younger man wished that Hannibal’s mask would resurface, far preferring the previous blankness to the spark of interest that now nestled there. In the end, Will shut his eyes tiredly and couldn’t even put in the effort to panic, simply emptied of energy and motivation; not of the need to fight back, but of the ability to even want to remain awake. He’d lost count of the bruises decorating his body, of the cuts marring his flesh, and he felt altogether human for the first time in days as his mortality caught up to him.

They say time flies when you’re having fun -but not that it also soared when you were wading through hell with the devil grasping onto your hand until your fingers felt near to snapping.

Hannibal cleaned the drying blood from his sore hole, returning to wipe at the fresh bit oozing from inside of him alongside the Ripper’s tacky come. _Why don’t you just make me bathe again_ he wondered to himself. _Hold me under while you’re at it._ Will wasn’t above begging in that moment. He hissed a breath out through his nose as the Ripper tended to him, eventually standing once more and retrieving the duffel bag from it’s place on the floor. 

“I imagine you’re hungry,” the man said casually.

“I guess so,” Will answered mechanically.

He was starved, actually; buried beneath the stinging ache that was his body, he could feel his empty stomach as if it were starved beast clawing at the bars of a cage. Will observed Hannibal from the corner of one eye as the man dug inside of his bag, turning his head to fully regard the other when he withdrew a thermos that appeared to be empty, and an apple that had only just begun to bruise. They were both quiet as Hannibal stood and headed over to the bathroom to fill the thermos with water, coming back with it and sitting close by Will’s head.

“Open,” he said, and Will obeyed, grateful for the swallow of cold water, even if the chemical aftertaste lingered disgustingly on his tongue.

Over the next several minutes, Hannibal cut off tiny pieces of the apple with a small knife that he withdrew from a pocket on the bag. He wordlessly fed each bit to Will, who opened his mouth, accepted the tangy cuts of fruit, and chewed them dutifully before swallowing silently. The apple was stripped to its core and set aside, and Hannibal retrieved another one and repeated the motions, and when Will finished this time, the Ripper leaned forward and captured his lips in a kiss that made bile gather at the back of his throat. The tender lock of their lips imitated what should have been consensual and caring, something to be treasured or enjoyed in the heat of the moment or across a distance filled with love and understanding. Hannibal’s lips were soft and the kiss remained languid until it was not -the older man deepened and forced his tongue into Will’s mouth, scouring the inside and nudging along his palate, his teeth, and then over the smaller man’s own as he chased the sugary remnants of the apple.

Hannibal pulled back and then stood, gathering the apple cores and disposing of them in a small plastic wastebasket. 

“I believe it’s time for a nap,” Hannibal murmured as he strolled over the left side of the bed. “I will undo one of your wrists, but that is all. Bite me or strike me, and I will break each of your fingers.”

Will didn’t respond as his right hand was released from the nylon rope, nor did he when Hannibal rubbed the red chafing ligature mark there gently, a soothing gesture that made the younger man ill instead of comforting him. He returned to perusing the ceiling as Hannibal stripped out of his shirt and lay down next to him, mattress dipping down as the man pressed close and situated his uninjured arm beneath Will’s head, curled on his side and mostly around his captive. _The Chesapeake Ripper is cuddling me_ , Will thought. 

Suddenly, he wanted to laugh.

“In a few hours we will leave,” Hannibal said softly into Will’s ear, face nuzzled close against the younger man’s head. “If you behave, I will not put you in the trunk when we do so.”

“Okay,” Will agreed, and in minutes, he felt the exact moment when Hannibal fell asleep, resenting the man for how easily he managed it. 

For the next few hours, Will lay still and tried to pretend the hot breath blowing across his neck belonged to one of his dogs as it snuggled up to him, soft fur lulling him into a dreamless sleep like so many times before.

Will was still awake when Hannibal resurfaced with a quiet grunt, his grasp tightening infinitesimally around the younger man while his nose rubbed sleepily along a scruffy jawline. Hannibal inhaled deeply at his bedmate’s pulse point, and his soft chest hair tickled Will’s arm where it was folded over his own abdomen. He had been staring at the crude bandage that sealed the axe wound on Hannibal’s bicep, silently urging the blood to seep through and never stop, for the monster to bleed out as he slept, as his eyes flitted back and forth beneath his eyelids during his slumber. 

_What do serial killers dream about?_

Probably nothing. Will couldn’t imagine there being anything within Hannibal’s psyche other than a void, and if there was, he wanted to know nothing about it. He remained silent as the man in question got out of the bed wordlessly, dressed, and then began to gather everything to haul out into the car. When he returned, it was with the knife glittering ominously.

“We’ll leave your intended rescuers a little gift,” Hannibal explained at Will’s alarmed expression.

“W-what? What kind of gift?”

Hannibal didn’t answer and instead advanced on the bound man, and Will’s nostrils flared as the sharp end of the blade approached his face -only to pass by and slice through the rope binding his left arm to the headboard. The younger man barely managed to sigh in relief before the Ripper pocketed the knife and then lifted him bodily away from the bed, carrying him bridal style and almost _gently_ out of the motel room that had been more a prison the last several hours. The black car sat innocuously in its parking space, passenger and driver’s side door opened wide. It wasn’t into the front that he went, however, because the trunk was also opened, and it was there that Hannibal paused and looked down at the man in his arms.

“I want you to think about what you have done, and I hope that you do so seriously,” Hannibal said. “Perhaps you’ll consider the wound that you’ve dealt me and remember never to attempt that folly again.”

And he forced Will into the trunk of the car, folding his limbs as if he were a doll. There was a loud scraping sound that Will couldn’t determine until a swatch of tape was secured over his mouth, and then another longer length bound his wrists together in front of him, ankles getting the same treatment. The inability to even get a word in edgewise filled Will with _rage_ , but mostly he scolded himself for ever believing that Hannibal would let an axe would go without retaliation, much less keep his word in any way. The Ripper had cleaned his wounds, fed him, and curled up next to him to sleep, and he’d spoke in a tone that resembled the one Will used to soothe his dogs back home. Will had been too focused on his exhaustion and his failure to question anything at that point, however.

Now he squirmed and made as much noise as he could manage behind his gag as Hannibal took a step back and looked down at him.

“Be glad I didn’t take you over my knees,” he said. “Again.”

The trunk banged shut, leaving Will in darkness. He was curled into a tight ball, unable to move other than to wiggle around in the enclosed space, naked skin scratching against the rough texture of the carpeting beneath him. Seconds later, the car moved, bumping gently over rocks and dirt, the direction indeterminable to the captive hidden away in the back. 

-*.*.*.*-

Behind the wheel of the car, Hannibal smiled the tiniest of smiles, a mere quirk of his lips, really. He wore a jacket now that covered the shoddy bandage job on his bicep, and he steered the car in the direction he had been heading before the required stop at the seedy motel. He thought about the evidence left behind and regretted that it couldn’t have been arranged more intricately, but altogether, he felt pleased. Soon, they would be on a private jet high in the clouds and flying away from America as his dear Will knew it, and the Ripper looked forward the safety and comfort of his own property, and the chance to properly clean his wound and set about his new life with his lover.

Hannibal reached over, eyes still on the road, and switched on the radio, smile widening imperceptibly at the notes of classical musical that wafted into the air in a passionate crescendo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So at this point I hope it's obvious that Hannibal is operating under a clear case of Erotomania. The chapter title is in homage to one of my favorite books :)


	8. Between the Bars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first second of eye contact with the Chesapeake Ripper illustrated nothing other than indifference, similar to a flat and empty field with blackened, burnt grass. If Will had to describe the emotion that filled him in those brief seconds, he wasn’t sure he would be able to find any word accurate enough to be sufficient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all who followed this story, and for those that helped me along. I know it wasn't a very happy story.
> 
> ♥
> 
> Not beta read. All mistakes are mine~

Hannibal opened the trunk, the bulk of his chest blocking out Will’s view. He wanted to be surprised or irked when he was promptly blindfolded, but as it was, the younger man merely groaned behind the tape sealing his lips shut and twitched. A click of a tongue, and he was lifted out of the car and held close.

“When we get home, I will cook you a meal that will fill you up pleasantly,” the man said as he began to walk with Will in his arms. “I think you’ll enjoy the house that we will live in together. Before I cut the phone lines at the motel, I arranged for quite a few things to happen, and I’m very excited to show you.”

“Mmmph,” Will said.

“Yes. I’m still very upset that you pulled that stunt with the axe, but I realize that you are scared and confused. It will be all better soon, however: I promise,” the Ripper continued speaking as if their conversation wasn’t one-sided. “And I always keep my promise.”

Will didn’t doubt that. Promising words that served merely to be ominous instead. He made another sound, vision dark behind his blindfold.

“You may have failed your first test, dear Will, but there will be plenty of time for me to teach you more thoroughly.” 

Steady steps, and then a brief incline. Moments later Will found himself seated on a comfortable surface and strapped in with a belt that crossed his chest. The blindfold remained tied around his eyes, but Hannibal removed the tape from his wrists and ankles, and then his mouth.

“I’m afraid the flight will be a rather long one,” Hannibal informed Will, and the younger man tilted his head to the side, determining that the Ripper now sat next to him on what he learned was a goddamn _plane_.

“How?” he asked.

“Can you please elaborate on that question?” prim, polite -a fucking cheeky question in response to his own.

“How did you arrange for a fucking plane to pick us up? You’re a _fugitive_!” Will hissed in disbelief.

“Influence exists no matter the status imposed on a man,” Hannibal said. “Money is also a very convincing motivator, of course .”

“So not only are you a monster, but you’re a rich one too,” Will couldn’t help the laugh that choked out of him.

Nothing about the situation was amusing -he was quite frankly terrified in that moment as he attempted to fathom the fact that Hannibal intended to take him not only away from his home, but from his State as well -country, even. Could it really be possible for a man who had killed so many people to manage something of this magnitude just with a few simple phone calls? Yes, of course. His body hurt and his heart hurt even more, an ache that transcended any physical wound, his failed attempt at getting away magnified by the fact that he would be completely upended from his life and forced into a new, very particularly molded existence. Years and years of studying psychopaths, dealing with the monsters that walked around in nice suits and smiled dead smiles, all of that had served only to deliver him into the clutches of the worst of them.

Life was indeed very cruel. 

-*.*.*.*-

Hannibal removed the blindfold eventually, and Will looked around the cabin of the small aircraft. The seats were comfortable, at the very least, but he shuddered when one of his hands were clasped in long fingers, thumb stroking his knuckles in a gentle rhythm. The flap on the window next to Hannibal was sealed shut, so he couldn’t see the world beneath them after takeoff, and the pilot made no appearance; there was no steward in a fashionable uniform to smile and show them how to properly wear an oxygen mask in case of an emergency. There _was_ a miniature fridge close at hand stocked with bottled water and wrapped sandwiches, however, and he accepted the proffered food and beverage quietly, glad to be able to serve himself and to have both of his hands free of the monster’s proverbially slimy touch. For now. 

They ate in silence as the plane continued towards Hannibal’s further freedom and Will’s continued imprisonment. 

“I understand that this will be quite the change to adapt to,” Hannibal murmured in his ear after they had eaten. “I want you to know that I will be here for you every step of the way. If you need anything, I urge you to tell me. I want you to be comfortable in our home.”

“Our home? You say that like we’re a couple honeymooning or buying our first fucking house together,” Will snapped, unable to remain quiet any longer, thoughts racing at the indignity of being _taken_ , and in so many different iterations of the word.

“The building is already purchased,” Hannibal argued. “It has been for a very long time. Don’t be ornery, Will. I am being nice right now.”

“Nice?” the younger man laughed harshly. “You rape me and then you steal me out of my own _home_ , and then you claim to be nice? Do you not hear how fucking crazy you sound right now?”

“I did nothing that you did not want,” the Ripper claimed in a tone that brooked no argument. “Rape suggests that you did not want it, and furthermore it is very impolite to label our experiences as such. Refrain from using that word, please.”

Will couldn’t form any more words anyway, least of all _that_ one, managing only to growl helplessly. Could this all have truly happened just over a ridiculously simple mix-up at a government facility? He could clearly remember the first time he had laid eyes on the man in person, standing in his prison jumpsuit and his chains -he even remembered comparing Hannibal Lecter to a politician, and how fucking apt was that now, with the man buying his way into in a life that should be spent behind bars? Everything became a confusing jumble to Will Graham in that moment, his sufferings reduced to little more than delusions by a man capable of apparently owning him like an animal.

He shut his eyes and focused on the sound of the aircraft as they soared above the clouds, picturing the tiny landscape far, far below, farmland spread in picturesque tidy squares, trees a sea of endless green dots. 

_“Alright, submit your report afterwards and you are free to go home,” his superior said before leaving the prisoner with Will._

_The first second of eye contact with the Chesapeake Ripper illustrated nothing other than indifference, similar to a flat and empty field with blackened, burnt grass. If Will had to describe the emotion that filled him in those brief seconds, he wasn’t sure he would be able to find any word accurate enough to be sufficient._

-*.*.*.*-

_Two days later_

The house was quaint, sizeable in comparison to his home in Wolf Trap, Virginia.

Will had no clue where in the world they were, only that a forest surrounded the property for miles around. The outside of the building gleamed under the sunlight, of which there seemed to be a lot here, day in and out, the skies blue and the clouds fluffy like cotton candy. The exterior was the softest shade of beige, the roof covered in black shingles that were arranged in a spiralling fibonacci pattern. There were three floors, although he had only seen the bedroom and the kitchen during the first few days; then he was shown the study, with its antique desk varnished into a glimmering sheen and its shelves of books in tidy rows; after that, Hannibal held his hand and lead the way out the back door onto the deck, where a shiny silver gas grill sat next to a glass table with four comfortable white chairs and a large, opened parasol that cast a shadow around it.

They followed a path of carefully laid polished rocks that circled around the house, and came upon a large pond that rippled in a soft breeze, lily pads floating on the surface of the water performing a dance for them, and for the sky that spread over them languidly. A willow tree towered on the other side, long tendrils of leaves nearly brushing the ground and rustling with a whisper, and a stone bench had been situated nearby. Hannibal wrapped an arm around his waist, and together they sat facing the pond.

“You’re a monster,” Will told the man softly, eyes on the long fingers that came to rest on his thigh.

“So you remind me daily,” Hannibal chuckled good-naturedly. “You will learn the truth eventually, my dear Will.”

“There is no truth to learn,” the younger man tensed and finally looked over at his captor. “I would kill you right now if I could.”

Blood-red eyes met his blue ones, regal features perpetually blank, although his expression shifted into one of consideration as Will watched, until eventually a wolf-grin bared sharp teeth. 

“How would you do it?” Hannibal’s inquiry was casual.

Will looked away and watched as a stronger breeze chased some of the willow tree’s leaves into the water. The smell of roses carried in the air and filled his nose.

“The axe,” he finally answered. “I would have liked for it to have hit its mark.”

“If I hadn’t stopped you, the blade would hit me between my eyes,” the Ripper said.

“What a shame that it didn’t.”

Hannibal Lecter huffed a laugh that set Will’s synapses alight with a fresh influx of anger, desperation, and a crippling sense of failure that made him feel like he had lost. 

There were no televisions or radios in the house, no phones, nothing that allowed him to contact the world outside of their isolated home. There was a harpsichord that Hannibal composed at nightly, with Will never out of his sight, and if the man ever had to leave, he had a special room reserved, one that locked when he shut the door behind him. It was tiny, and it had a bed, a desk with an uncomfortable wooden chair, a simple clock hanging on the wall, and a window. Will could bring as many books as he wanted, and he was never locked in without being fed -each time Hannibal left him there, he also returned swiftly, apparently anxious to be back. And during those moments of reunion he planted chaste kisses on Will’s brow and neck, right before he bent him over the desk or forced him onto the bed that had no right to be as comfortable as it was.

Will buried his face into the impossibly soft pillow when that happened, but he no longer sobbed. Within, there existed a pit, a black void that muted his bright blue eyes over time, until they were hardened sapphires. He ventured through this desolate land that had replaced his lake and forest, and he cultivated every single moment that filled him with anger and despair, gathered them in hand and scattered the ashes around him as he walked, head held high. 

Now, they returned to the house, and Hannibal cooked him a large dinner, three courses with names that escaped him in seconds. Dessert filled him with sugary hatred. He slept in Hannibal’s arms that night, and the next day the man locked him in ‘his’ room, stating that he had errands to run. Will Graham pulled the desk chair across the hardwood floor and set it in front of the window, and he sat down as he did more often than not, straight-backed, eyes closed, heart thumping slowly. Behind his eyes an endless picture flashed, depicting the time he had first met Hannibal Lecter, their eye contact creating an instant bond that fueled the former and had only recently become apparent to the latter. He still had no word to describe that momentous occasion that didn’t deviate from insanity or monstrous or foreboding, but at least he had a clear understanding of the exact millisecond that Hannibal went from not knowing him to loving him beyond any definition of propriety. 

Will opened his eyes and stared ahead. There were bars on the window, and they were evenly spaced, the few inches between them offering him a view of the pond with its willow tree friend.

 _Drink up with me now_  
_And forget all about_  
_The pressure of days_  
_Do what I say_  
_And I'll make you okay_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deliberately did not write an ending that touched on whether or not Will gets away. But that just means it's up to the reader, because I think you all deserve that.
> 
> In my mind, this is one of those alternate realities described in the show, the thing that could have happened and did in this universe. I will likely not visit this story again, but it was an experience I do not regret, as it has helped me through a personal obstacle of my own.
> 
> Thank you all for the comments, kudos, and for reading. Bless you all ♥
> 
> *Lyrics at the end from Elliot Smith's 'Between the Bars.'


End file.
